


Any Given Moment

by sebayard



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Meet-Cute, POV Lance (Voltron), Pining Lance (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-26 09:33:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13855026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sebayard/pseuds/sebayard
Summary: "Lance sees him every Monday, the same red jacket, the same pair of headphones, and the same mullet always sitting in the fifth row to the right when Lance steps onto the bus along with Hunk. They always lock eyes, always turn away, never say a word."Lance falls in love with the boy on the bus.





	Any Given Moment

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kissmesexybatman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kissmesexybatman/gifts).



> Happy VLD Positivity Day to kissmesexybatman! I hope you enjoy this fic!<3

There’s a boy on the bus.

 

Lance sees him every Monday, the same red jacket, the same pair of headphones, and the same mullet always sitting in the fifth row to the right when Lance steps onto the bus along with Hunk. They always lock eyes, always turn away, never say a word.

 

Lance calls him Mullet, in his head anyway. It seems fitting, with the way his lengthy black hair hangs just along his shoulders. Hunk and Pidge have different names for him, but Lance does his best to ignore their comments. 

 

He does have to admit, though, that their nickname “Cute Bus Boy” is not inaccurate, and that a mullet, while unsightly in theory, does in fact have a certain amount of charm when it’s on the right kind of person. 

 

He wonders if Mullet has a nickname for him, too.

 

Lance glances up from his phone, sneaks a glance to his right where the boy is sitting, eyes closed. His friend isn’t with him today, the man with the white hair and scar across his nose, leaving Mullet’s dozing form in unobstructed view. 

 

Hunk elbows him in the side.

 

Lance turns back, shooting his friend a glare. So what if his eyes lingered on Mullet a little more often than they used to? It didn’t mean anything.

 

It didn’t.

 

Lance makes sure to keep his eyes glued to his phone or the window for the remaining fifteen minutes before he and Hunk get off at the stop in front of their apartment building. Hunk gives him some looks, but otherwise stays silent.

 

But there’s just  _ something _ about Mullet, and when Lance throws one last look at him before getting off, he’s awake. They lock eyes, just for a moment, and then the bus drives on.

 

There’s a boy on the bus. He’s beautiful and mysterious and every Monday Lance falls a little more in love.

  
  


* * *

  
  


It’s been four months since Lance’s nine to four shift at the shop began, four months since he started taking the Monday bus to save money, and four months since Lance saw Mullet for the first time. He’s learned a few things since then, like that he owns a motorcycle, that he loves to eat Chex Mix, that he works downtown, that he lives with his friend, Shiro.

 

That his name is Keith.

 

Lance’s learned all these things, and yet they’ve never exchanged a single word during the past four months, just stolen glances and locked eyes.

 

But today there’s only one seat open.

 

Lance gulps.

 

With Hunk home with the flu, it’s just Lance as he walks up the steps, ready to take his usual spot: fifth row on the left. But it’s a holiday, the city more crowded than usual, and the typically empty bus is practically filled to the brim.

 

But there’s one seat open…

 

Lance takes the seat next to Keith, holds his breath.

 

Keith ignores him, which, well, what did Lance expect, really? They don’t know each other, never said as much as a hello. 

 

But that could change.

 

Lance works up some courage buried deep within his bones, clears his throat, says, “Hey.”

 

“Hey.” Keith glances at him before turning back to the window. 

 

Lances fiddles with the hem of his shirt. He’s made it this far, might as well commit. “I’m Lance.”

 

He turns back, looking surprised. “Oh, um, I’m Keith.” He stares at Lance, his violet eyes furrowed. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

 

Lance chuckles, scratches the back of his head. “Probably… from here? I sit opposite you every Monday.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Yeah.” 

 

They talk some more, after that. It’s not much, but Lance will take it. He learns some things through their fumbled conversation. He learns that Keith works at the local library during the weekdays, knows karate, listens to Fall Out Boy on repeat. He learns that Keith tries to hold back his smiles when he’s talking about something he loves, that he smells like leather and old books, that his quietly spoken words speak volumes. 

 

They may not speak the entire ride, but they speak enough, and by the time Lance’s stop comes around, he doesn’t want to leave. As he gets up, Keith gives him a soft smile, a wave. “It was nice to meet you, Lance.”

 

He grins. “You too, Keith.”

 

It’s been four months since Lance started taking the bus every Monday, four months since he’d met Keith. In four months he’s learned how much he loves coffee, that his favorite book is The Hobbit, how Red Vines are his candy of choice, and what Lance’s name sounds like when spoken softly from his lips.

 

It sounds nice.

 

* * *

 

 

He’s warm. 

 

That’s the first thing Lance notices when Keith’s hand brushes up against his, lingers there for a moment before returning back to the spot on his lap. It’s just the two of them, again, Shiro catching up on classwork and Hunk working overtime at the shop. The bus isn’t crowded but Lance sits with Keith anyway, having moved from strangers to acquaintances to something like friends over the past six months.

 

Lance stares at Keith’s hand on his lap, his own tingling from the brief contact. He’s warm, so warm, and Lance wants nothing more than to take Keith’s hand into his, to memorize every line, every scar, every muscle. 

 

It’s killing him, and Lance knows what he has to do.

 

“Hey, Keith, are- are you doing anything tomorrow?”

 

Keith turns to look at him, head tilted quizzically. “No, why?”

 

“Hunk and I are having a little get together with some people and… I dunno I think you should come, I guess.”

 

Keith blinks, mouth parted, before he grins, small, contained, bursting at the seams. “Yeah, sure. Could be fun.”

 

“Okay, uh, sweet. I’ll text you the details?”

 

“You’ll need my number first.”

 

“Oh, right, uh, here.” Lance hands his phone over, waits patiently as Keith inputs his number.

 

“Don’t forget to text me,” he says as he hands Lance the phone.

 

Like he could ever do that. Like he could ever forget anything about Keith. 

 

They’re quiet, after that. They usually are, on days like this. It’s nice, more than nice, really. It’s comfortable, and it’s in these last fifteen minutes that Lance feels truly at rest.

 

But the bus stops, as it is wont to do, and, like every Monday, Lance gets ready to head out. He stands, locks eyes with Keith, smiles, just as he’s done for the past six months. But this time, Keith takes Lance’s hand before he can head up front. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then?” His eyes are hopeful, voice soft, hand warm.

 

There’s a boy on the bus. He used to play soccer as a kid, his favorite colour is red, his smile lights up a whole room, and Lance only sees him every Monday. But that’s not true anymore, is it?

 

“Yeah,” Lance says, smiling wide, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

**Author's Note:**

> What is romance? IDK but apparently it's awkward small talk on a bus ride home. Also how do titles work?
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy this little fic! Sorry for any grammar/spelling errors that I will inevitably find later. Kudos, comments, and bookmarks are all loved and cherished greatly.
> 
> As usual, you can hit me up at my tumblr [sebayard.](http://sebayard.tumblr.com/)


End file.
